


The Impossible Child

by DiscoTrek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Fluffy, Grandmothers, Lies, Open Ending, Reunited and It Feels So Good, lots of yelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoTrek/pseuds/DiscoTrek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor gets a call for help, though help, it seems, is not what's needed. (Continuation of the storyline for Death in Heaven)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Impossible Child

A young woman on Earth lives happily in a small apartment; small, but charming and affordable to a teacher. She lives with a young man, who she loves. They sit on the couch together and he strokes her hair while they watch the television that once belonged to only her. The young man wraps his arms around her and thinks of marriage while the young woman thinks beyond that, considering the children that they might have together. A lonely man in a blue box imagined these things happening.

Nerves kept getting the better of him whenever he got too close. Though, even reaching the nineteenth century seemed close to him, considering the time they had spent there together. He felt as he imagined a magnet would feel when facing the opposite direction. It naturally pushes away, but if it turns around, even slightly, it is pulled back with such an overwhelming amount of force. He longed to turn back; to see her and allow her to be near him again. Just a brush of her hand or a smile that wrinkled the skin around her large eyes was enough for him, at least enough. That’s all he wanted.  
But then, PE saw things differently. Despite his distancing himself from her, PE still had so much distrust, and bated him at every turn. Why else, if not the jealousy? Did The Doctor not help people? Did he not save lives and keep the woman PE loved alive? The woman he loves. Even if a problem lied with the man, why take her away from the whole adventure? What sort of man would tell a woman that she should choose him over a life in the TARDIS? A simple life with a soldier or a lifetime of billions of galaxies at your fingertips? Only the most selfish of men would rank themselves higher than the stars. But then again, was The Doctor not the most selfish of men? He would have deprived her of a normal, ordinary, beautiful human life, only to share a small fragment of his own life with her.  
The Doctor’s eyebrows pulled together from the pain of it all. He had tried so hard. When he punched in those coordinates, he was so sure he would find everything that he had ever lost. Everything would have been worth what he had done all of his lives to get to that point. His soul would somehow have been saved, but his ultimate refuge was nowhere to be found. Gallifrey was gone. Every woman he had ever loved was gone. His only childhood friend was gone, again. Why was he doomed to always fail? Why could The Doctor, the man who could raise a billion armies, the man who could run for one thousand years, the man who could save the entire universe, not save the people he cared for the most? They were always his sacrifice when he would have always preferred to sacrifice himself.  
The Doctor sat in his room, a place where he had allowed only two people, besides himself to ever enter. They were long gone along with the rest of them. He rested his face in his thin hands and sighed, considering damaging the engines of the TARDIS to a point where he could cause a self-destruct. He had tried it before, but he didn’t have the severity he had at this moment. He knew he could do it. He stood and began to drag his weightious feet to the engine room, but he ended up in the console room instead. “Not today, love. Maybe tomorrow.” He cooed to the TARDIS. A gentle hum allowed him to feel its energy. A wavelength, like a hushed voice saying, “Please don’t.”  
He smiled, but thought that perhaps tomorrow it would not seem so funny. It wasn’t even funny then. Just as his smile faded, a sharp, familiar and comforting sound blared in his ears like a shower of gongs being shattered on the ground. He turned to the door in disbelief, wondering what the circumstance would be that it could truly be happening. The telephone was ringing. His feet moved before his brain did and launched him toward the door. He held tight to the handle as he swung out. The TARDIS was parked, suspended over the Plenetar Star that burned like a large, blue flame.  
He opened the phone box in a flustered rush and hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering with a disheartening thought: What if she was in trouble? His hand encircled the telephone tightly and pressed it to his ear. “Yes, hello?” He wheezed, not realizing he had exerted himself from either the run or the worry. “Hello-” He said again, but a familiar voice answered him, cutting him off.  
“Help her.” They said with something like desperation. The Doctor froze, his eyes the only things in motion. “PE?” Was all he could ask, wondering why he would ever need anything from him, of all people. The voice made a small inaudible sound before continuing. “This is not Danny. Help Clara. Please,” The voice spoke even more desperately. The Doctor’s eyebrows furrowed. His fear had been realized. “What’s happened?” He asked gravely, but there came no answer. “Hello?! What’s happened to her?” He shouted into the receiver, but the line was dead. His hearts pounded in his ears. It took him a moment to realize what he had to do before he slammed the phone on its hook and ran back to the console.  
Every button was pushed quickly and efficiently. Every nob was spun and every lever was pulled to get him on his way to Earth: modern day. The continuous vworps and whirs sounded as the TARDIS leapt across time and space to get to her. His mind shifted rapidly from one thought to another, but mostly it was fear for her, his friend, being in danger. And then there was the voice on the phone: the voice that was Danny, but was not Danny, but knew Danny. Complex notions came into his mind, mainly as a distraction for his worries. It was helpful for some time, until he arrived on her street.  
He ran through the TARDIS’ door and flicked his collar securely into place as he did so. The weather was chill, just as it was when he had left before. It seemed that a lot of his goodbyes took place in the cold. He charged in long strides toward her apartment building and let himself in with his screwdriver. His feet thudded in a steady rhythm on his way until he arrived at her door. He didn’t know what he would say if Danny answered. He would be able to ask him why he had called him and pretended not to be himself, unless the door was closed immediately after its opening. He decided that he had to take the chance. His thin hand formed a fist and knocked against the door urgently.  
Clara’s grandmother answered the door. Surprise, and some disappointment that it was not her granddaughter shone through the doctor’s eyes. She looked him over and met him with an expression of bewilderment, as if he were putting her out by making her answer the door. “Who are you, then?” She asked with some disdain. The Doctor cleared his throat gruffly, forgetting why she would not remember him, but then realized as he saw his reflection in the mirror across the hall. “Ah yes. I, uh, am a friend of Clara’s.” He replied, trying to look past her to see if he could spot where the true lady of the house was. There didn’t seem to be any panic in the apartment, insinuating Clara’s being in danger, but he still was being cautious.  
“Who is it, Gran?” Clara called sweetly from a different room. There she was, he thought. The Doctor’s breath caught. He almost sank to the floor at a sudden realization. He had been running back and forth, here and there, for nearly ten years since he had last heard her voice. Though ten years was usually just a turn of a page for him, and it had only been about one year since she had seen him, he suddenly felt the distance that had been between them. “Older chap. Says he’s a friend of yours’.” She called back in a distrusting tone. The Doctor dismissed the title she had given him, trying to prepare himself to see her.  
Not a moment after her grandmother had spoken, Clara came quickly from her bedroom with a slight mist in her dark chocolate eyes, and a smile that wrinkled her skin, just as he had wanted. His smile met hers in a way that made him feel a sense of humanity that he had never felt before. He took in the sight of the girl. Her face, so like a moon: round and so bright and pure. Something was different about her, but he couldn’t place what it was really. All he could think was how grateful he was that she was safe.  
She raced over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over. He embraced her right back, feeling the back of her head fit so well in the palm of his right hand. Her soft hair tickled his face and he laughed against her, fearing he would show more emotion than was bearable. He refused to look like an old fool. “What are you doing here?” She asked with elated volume. He opened his mouth, not sure what to say, since she seemed so well. She untied her arms from him and took a step back to receive her answer. “I’m here… to help.” He said with an unconscious shrug. Her smile faded and she looked suddenly nervous to him.  
“Help with what?” She asked, adding to the distance between them. He budged forward slightly to be closer. “Whatever there is that you need help with, I suppose.” He replied nonchalantly, trying to make the visit seem more casual than it was. She could detect the improvisation in his voice and crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes like she often had when she didn’t buy the things he was selling. “What makes you think I need the help?” She asked, pacing to the side, but keeping her gaze fixed on him. His quizzical eyes followed hers. “A gut feeling, you could say.” He replied, sensing her lasting need to be so self-reliant. “Well, it was good of you to visit and all, but there’s no help needed. Everything’s normal here. Just as you left it.” She said in a bubbly tone, though her eyes saddened at the mention of his leaving.  
“So great to hear, I’m sure,” he rescinded, thinking quickly, “but I’m afraid I’m stuck here for the moment. I’ve run the TARDIS a bit ragged and it’s in the process of repairing itself. Too many wires and things got scrambled like eggs, so I thought a nice catch up would waste a little time.” He stated, liking the lie he had just come up with and planning to use it later when needed. “Well it’s just flattering that you’re choosing to waste your time with us.” She sneered. He frowned at her sarcasm.  
Her thoughts were so thick with suspicion; he could almost see them in the air around her. “I can’t figure out what you’re hiding.” She said in a whisper, unsure if she meant to say it aloud. He rolled his eyes, dismissing the tension that was building. “Shall we just say, for now at least, that I’m not hiding anything, and have some coffee?” He asked. Clara’s gaze wavered, to his relief. He pursed his lips, glancing at her grandmother, who watched him with even more suspicion than Clara had, and discarded the idea of reusing his lie.  
“There’s a good coffee place just down the street.” She suggested quickly. The Doctor glanced around, not wanting to leave the apartment, in case something dangerous were to arise while they were gone. “Uh, have you not coffee here?” He asked, pointing to the kitchen. He caught the frown that flashed on her face for a moment before she forced a smile. “Nope. Sorry. Fresh out. Bye Gran!” She said quickly, pulling the doctor by his arm. She used to do that often.  
“Bye dear. I’ll call you when Johnny wakes!” She shouted after them. Clara cringed. The Doctor halted, startling her. Her grasp tightened on his arm, but he did not budge. “Who’s Johnny?” He asked, noticing her heart beat increase in her tight grip. She turned back to him with an emotional grimace. “He’s… someone from Gran’s TV program! He’s been in a coma so-” The Doctor turned back to the apartment door and opened it, interrupting her story. “Doctor,” She called so nervously, he thought he should have turned back, but he kept on. “Doctor!” She called again. Her desperation forced him to stop. He turned to her with such distrust in his countenance.  
“I never thought you, of all people would be the type.” He accused. Her expression changed from worry to confusion. “What are you talking about?” She asked hoarsely. He scoffed at her in disbelief. “Don’t play games with me Clara. I knew you were many things: Stubborn, controlling, impulsive, but I never knew that disloyal was on the list!” He said angrily, pointing his long finger at her, which she smacked away immediately. “List? I haven’t a clue what you’re saying!” She argued, positioning herself in front of her bedroom door. “Do I have to spell everything out? I’m talking about you seeing this Johnny fellow behind Danny’s back! You’re not even ashamed of letting your grandmother know about him either! What, do you all sit around and drink tea together on the weekends or something?”  
Clara’s eyes shut in frustration. “Doctor, Johnny’s not a man.” Her voice sounded defeated and tired. He studied her, waiting for her to explain further. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and then grabbed a hold of the doorknob behind her. When she turned it, her gran was sitting in a rocking chair that rocked gently to the beat of the quiet nursery rhyme that played on a stereo. In her arms was something not visible at the angle where he stood, swaddled in a blue and white striped blanket. “At least, not yet.” She finished. His eyes widened and his ears reddened at the sight of the thing, wriggling with life.  
Clara walked in and wiped the bottom of her eyes quickly. “Oh he’s awake.” She whispered cheerily, bending over to pick him up. Gran lifted the creature to meet Clara’s arms. Clara turned towards The Doctor, startling him with her luminescence. A small foot escaped the blanket she held. He focused on it, analyzing its tanned color and minuscule size. “Doctor,” his attention went back to her beaming face, “This is John Daniel Oswald. My son.”  
The Doctor approached with caution, feeling afraid without knowing why. When he reached Clara’s side, his shoulder pressed against hers and his eyes fell on what the blanket enclosed. Just like his foot, the rest of him was a color like smooth caramel. Little wisps of dark hair came from the top of his terribly small head. His eyes were striking, and dark chocolate, like his mother’s. The Doctor began to calculate in his mind. The baby looked to be four months old, which means that Clara was at the least, two months pregnant when Danny died. He swallowed hard and stepped away from Clara’s shoulder.  
“Did you know you were pregnant when I left?” He asked harshly, looking down at the baby instead of its mother. A moment of silence entered the room, filling him with a bitter and familiar feeling of unforgiving nature. “Well, I’d better be off!” Gran announced in a jiff. “I’ll let you two, um, catch up.” She finished uncomfortably. Clara set John down in his crib before she led her grandmother to the door. The Doctor watched them and heard Gran mutter something about her liking that younger chap she used to run with far better than this one. Clara gave her a quick kiss goodbye, giving her an opportunity to shoot him one last scowl. The silence fell again once she had gone.  
“I didn’t know,” she said softly with a slight shake of her head, “but I had a feeling I was.” She sniffed, looking over at John’s crib in a most loving fashion. “When you left, I hadn’t even told Danny…” She said, trailing off. Doctor felt a frown form on his face. She had kept it from him, not just because she hadn’t told Danny yet. She didn’t tell him, because she knew that if she had, he would have come back. Whether it was because Danny wished it to be so or that she did not want her child to be near him, one thing for certain: He was not wanted there.  
He looked down at his shoes and feigned a smile. “Well, I should say congratulations, I think.” He mused, feeling warmth in his ears again. His gaze fell upon her again. “He looked right in your arms.” He said gently. Clara shined her eyes at him, cherishing his words. It felt painful to him to see her act warmly. “Well, I should think that the TARDIS will be done doing… whatever it was doing soon, so I’ll be out of your hair shortly.” He commented, feeling a bit like a waste of space.  
Clara felt panic at the idea of him leaving. “No! I’m sure the TARDIS will take much longer to fix itself. You’ve only just gotten here.” She said, now using his same obvious lie. “At least stay for dinner.” She pleaded, though she knew she was contradicting her own wishes. She had to find a way to get him to leave, but at the same time, she had missed him so much more than she realized. There was no harm in just having dinner. “Alright,” he agreed, giving in against his better judgment. They both sat down at her small table silently and faced each other. The Doctor’s hands were meshed together on the table. Clara’s did the same in her lap.  
“So,” Doctor began, desperately needing relief from the quiet, “when does PE get home?” Clara’s eyes widened silently. She had forgotten about her second, terrible lie when she invited him to stay for dinner. “Well, I imagine he’s not a PE teacher anymore, at least not at the school where he used to work, but perhaps he’s found some other school in need of more physical activity…? I suppose I’ll just say Danny.” He finished, still wanting to inquire about the mysterious phone call.  
“Danny?” She asked, almost as if she wasn’t sure that that’s who he was referring to. The Doctor stared at her. He couldn’t read her for a moment, which was terribly rare for him. He gave her a small nod. “Yes... Danny.” He repeated. Clara blinked hard. “He’s out with friends for the weekend. He’ll be coming back Monday.” She said more fluidly than she thought herself capable. She praised herself in her mind for her masterful deception. The Doctor exhaled through his mouth and looked down at his hands.  
“Perhaps we could make a promise to each other that for the rest of the evening, we cannot tell the other a lie.” His eyes flashed up from his hands, intensifying the point he was making. “So we’ll start over. Where’s Danny?” Clara’s eyes fell to the floor. “Danny died over a year ago.” She stated in proper answer form. The Doctor blinked and allowed his mouth to linger open as he stared at her. “Yes, thank you. We all know that... Now what time is he coming home?” Doctor replied, clapping his hands together as if she was not cooperating with him and needed help focusing.  
“He’s not coming home.” She replied in almost a whisper. Emotion flashed on her face for a moment, but she took a deep breath to soothe herself. The Doctor realized what she was saying, but allowed her to go on. She lifted her wrist and pulled her sweater sleeve up to show that she still wore the bracelet. Though she didn’t have to. It caught his eye immediately when she first came out of her room. “There was only enough power for one journey home. It just wasn’t him that took the journey.” She lowered the bracelet, scrunching up her other sleeve to make them symmetrical.  
“He sent back a young boy he had killed in action in his stead and told me to find his parents. His mother was the only one left. It took me months to track her down, but when I did, I flew home with him. We found his mum… and the look on her face…” She said thickly with tears in her throat. She looked up, fighting their downpour. “Anyway,” she began again, clearing her throat, “I understand why he did it, but sometimes, I still wish he hadn't. That man... he was too unselfish to be with the likes of me.” She said. He glared at her unintentionally.  
“It’s not like you to be self-deprecating.” He stated coldly.  
“I’m not pitying myself, that’s just the fact.” She stabbed in defense. He thought on the new information she had given him. For more than a year, she had been all alone. He should have guessed when she introduced John as an Oswald, not a Pink. He felt a crushing sorrow for her that showed in his aged face.  
“Clara, why did you not tell me? I could’ve helped you! I could have stayed with you!” He cried, gesturing with his hands, holding his palms facing up like he was begging.  
“Well that’s the point, isn’t it!?” She tried not to pay attention to his need to help her and replaced all other feelings with anger. She had to find a way to push him away. She shouldn’t have told him about John or Danny. He would have been happy and he would have left her alone. “You have a home now! I didn’t want to do anything that could take you away from that!”  
He cringed at the thought of his home that was still lost to him. He pushed it from his mind by simply saying, “That doesn’t matter anymore.” She misunderstood his emotion and scoffed, laughing in disbelief.  
“How does that not matter? You finally have everything you ever lost and it doesn’t matter?” She questioned, almost in disgust at his disregard. “None of that matters anymore!” He cried, waving his hands in frustration, dismissing the feelings that arose.  
“But-”  
“Clara, stop!” He ordered, which triggered her to stand as if her chair were spring-loaded.  
“No, this is something you have to explain because if you were not sitting here in front of me right now, I would say that the person talking is not the man I learned from and traveled so far with because that man fought for the people that he lost! He would never dismiss them and say they didn’t matter, so you explain this to me!” She demanded, allowing a few tears of outrage to escape her eyes.  
“Clara-”  
“Explain!” She remained standing, having the advantage of the higher ground. He sighed, deciding to put his guard down.  
“She lied.” He stated simply. Clara’s eyes narrowed, trying to understand what he meant. “Missy’s coordinates proved to be... unsatisfactory. There is still no Gallifrey.” He finished, surprised he could speak the piercing words aloud. “I’m sorry for the lie. I thought, with me gone, you’d have a better chance at happiness.” His eyes were fixed to the floor. He hadn’t even realized Clara had moved until she was kneeling in front of him. She reached her hands up to either side of his face and stroked her thumbs underneath his eyes to wipe the tears he had not felt fall.  
“Doctor, I’m so sorry.” She breathed, still resting her hands on his cheeks. She had never been so close to him. He felt the warmth in his cheeks meet the warmth of her hands.  
“We’re not very practiced at being honest with each other, are we?” He asked, resting one of his hands on the back of one of hers, warming his cheek even more. She laughed and then stood, gently pulling her hands from him. He greatly disliked the distance.  
“No, I don't think we are. Good news is I think we’ve finally dispensed with all of our big secrets. It’s a good place to start anew.” She said with questioning eyebrows. The Doctor smiled widely at her, which she had only ever seen twice since his face had changed. “Hear, hear.” He agreed.  
As Clara began making her spaghetti, they just chatted, as if they were normal people instead of complex and clashing beings that knew more of danger and death than quiet evenings and dinners. Clara worked on the sauce and had The Doctor cook the noodles. To her complete surprise, he already knew how to do it. He boiled them and strained them while Clara took a break to feed John. Doctor watched her with him. He could hear her singing softly to him as she held the bottle up high enough for him to get every last drop. When she laid him back down, he pretended to still be working diligently. Ten minutes later they sat with spaghetti on their plates and john in a bassinet nearby.  
Clara paused her chewing for a moment and stared at The Doctor who slurped his noodles loudly across from her. “Okay, now that we’re telling only the truth to each other, you have to tell me what really brought you here.” She started, taking another bite during his answer.  
“I came because you apparently, need my help.” He replied, still unsure of what he was supposed to be helping with.  
“Oh you can tell that by looking at me? I’m doing so poorly as a mother you can hear the baby screaming from across the universe?” She spat, digging angrily into her noodles. The Doctor’s head leaned back slightly at her attacking tone. “It wasn’t my judgment that you needed help! All I know is that I got a phone-call. You’re one of the only people in the universe who has the number, and yet someone... someone I don't know called me to tell me that you needed my help. I decided to take it seriously.” Clara’s brows softened with gratefulness.  
“And so you came.” she replied, grinning warmly over her pasta.  
“So I came.” Doctor repeated, admiring her sentiment.  
They chatted for an hour more, talking about the adventures he had while they were apart, and the people he had met, until it was time to feed John again. Clara washed his bottle quickly and began making new formula, scooping small amount of power into the bottle’s small hole. The Doctor stood and walked over to the bassinet, looking down at the baby as it fussed.  
“May I?” He asked, gesturing to her child. “Of course,” she replied, stopping what she was doing to watch the once in a lifetime event to occur. Doctor bent down and scooped John from his bedding like he weighed less than a slice of bread. His large hands cradled the boy and held him so he was facing The Doctor. “Let’s have a look at you.” He whispered to him. His crying ceased as he looked into the eyes of a new acquaintance. The Doctor had felt a tinge of a bias against the boy for belonging to Danny, but as he looked at his small face and his incredible, small limbs and digits, he could find no flaws in him. Doctor laughed through his nose. “You’re quite the lad.” His whisper was quiet enough that Clara couldn’t hear him. Comfort wafted over him like a blessed wave.  
He had thought that the adventures and the constant dashing of insidious plans was what truly living looked like, but this child was life in its purest form. He had met babies before, but there was something miraculous in store for this one, he thought. The Doctor gazed at him, seeing his potential to be more expansive than any galaxy. Doctor was a man who had felt for so many in so many different ways, but he knew from their first meeting that he loved this child with his entire being.  
The Doctor fed him his bottle and rocked him as he hummed a tune that he said was to enchant babies with slumber. Clara swaddled him and put him down. Sleep came immediately after. She closed the door until it was open just a crack and then turned toward The Doctor who was watching John’s nostrils inflate and deflate so perfectly with every clear breathe he took.  
“I know that you want to leave, but I don’t see a point in you leaving right now. So, just stay the night. Please.” She asked in a visibly nervous way. It reassured him that she seemed just as nervous as he was. He gave her a half-smile. “I’ll stay.” He replied, not really having a reason to leave anymore. She just looked at him for a moment before whispering, “Hold on.” Her small hands opened her closet doors quietly so she wouldn’t wake up John, and then she walked over to The Doctor and grabbed his lapels. He looked down at her just as their faces were close enough to touch. She tugged on his jacket and pulled it from his arms. He bent and pulled to make sliding out of the jacket easier. She walked over and hung the jacket up in the closet.  
She walked to him again and took hold of the buttons on his vest, undoing each one so carefully and expertly until she pulled it from him, maneuvering around each arm. He watched her so carefully. He had never before allowed himself to truly look at her and pour his eyes over her until this moment. When she walked back the third time, she pressed on his chest lightly until he backed up toward the bed and sat gently when the backs of his knees hit the mattress. She knelt down in front of him and took one of his shoes in her hands. When she finally got the laces to untie, she pulled it from his foot.  
Before she moved on to the next foot, The Doctor took some of her soft hair in his fingers and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled, though her focus was still on his shoe. The next one came off easier than the first. Clara walked around to the other side of the bed and pulled her sweater and pants off, revealing a simple brown tank-top and cotton shorts underneath.  
They both got into bed at the same time. Clara turned off the only light left in the room besides a glowing mobile for John and Doctor moved to the center of the bed. Clara scooted over to him and embraced him comfortingly, resting her head on the pillow right beside his. They faced each other, their noses touching from the closeness. The Doctor inched forward just slightly and then pressed his lips to Clara’s, allowing him to have a moment that was far sweeter than he imagined. Clara rested her hand on his cheek and rubbed against his slight stubble with her thumb. They kissed as if they had done it a thousand times before, but it was still so precious to them. Clara smiled.  
“Can you tell me something?” She asked, still resting her hand on his face. He nodded with giddy light in his eyes. Clara felt like she could see a journey ahead of them; A truly joyful journey.  
“Is there a way for us to be together? Well, when I say together, I mean you park the TARDIS somewhere and you stay here, and I stay here. And John stays here.” She said inarticulately. The Doctor laughed a little. “You’d want me to live here with you?” He asked in a more childlike melody than anything Clara had ever heard from him. “If you’d like to stay, we’d love to have you. I don’t know how long you would want to stay, but if it could be at least most of my life, I think I would be satisfied.” She said earnestly. He heard tragedy in her voice where there didn’t need to be.  
“Clara, I know that I look quite old, but my life has been long and will continue to be long. I will stay with you as long… as long as you’re able to have me.” He whispered, rubbing his nose intentionally against hers. She beamed so brightly, he thought she might illuminate the entire room.  
“I know that I said I would never love another as I loved Danny, and I suppose that’s still true because I loved him in a different way than I love you, but you and I are supposed to be here right now together, no matter what the universe says. We’re meant to love each other.” She said, grabbing tufts of his hair and twirling it in her fingertips. She rolled over and faced away from him so he could shelter her. Her wrapped his arm around her and she wrapped her legs around his.  
“Promise me that you’ll always watch over John after I’m gone?” She asked, bending her neck to face him again. “I promise you.” He replied, kissing her once more before she nodded off from the same melody that put John to sleep. The Doctor made sure she was fully asleep before sliding out of bed and walking over to John’s bassinet. “Hello again, John.” He whispered, watching the baby sleep soundly. “I know it was you that called me, though I’ll never know why now that the time stream is changed. I just want you to know how much I love your mother. Know that I will always protect her, and now that you’re here, I will always protect you too.” He laughed quietly, scratching his head. “I always wondered what I would do with the rest of my time. I thought I would have to spend it alone. But now that you’re here, I see the rest of it so clearly. You are the perfect ending to my story... 

Historic Diary Entry from New Earth’s Records:

Hello people of New Earth. My name is John Oswald. Some of you have heard of me, but more of you have undoubtedly heard of my father. The great man who owned the TARDIS before me: The Doctor. He died nearly two hundred years ago. The Doctor was a Timelord from the great planet Gallifrey, which was lost for some time, but was rediscovered soon before The Doctor’s death. Now the planet, and its inhabitants, are well known throughout the galaxy.  
I am the rightful owner of this particular TARDIS, but I am not a Timelord. I am a human, born on Earth before its later destruction. The Doctor told me that as I spent more time in the TARDIS, Timelord energy would fuse with my body and I would become more like him. As a result, I have become genetically altered over time and am now half-timelord. My new physiology has not suggested that I would regenerate if my body was in danger of dying, but scans have told me that I am growing a second heart. I am currently 304 years old, but appear to be the age of a 25 year-old human.  
I, like my father, have explored many galaxies, but not nearly as many as he had. This is a record for those who wish to explore these galaxies with me; to accompany me, acting as a fellow adventurer, consultant, or companion. As a warning I will add that it is not an easy role to play, but if you want it to, it will change the very nature of your existence. You will find that though you have been walking all your life, you have no idea how good it feels to run.


End file.
